


Cold Comfort

by JuxtaposeFantasy



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuxtaposeFantasy/pseuds/JuxtaposeFantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will gets lost in the cold. Hannibal finds him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> After the events of "Roti" (oh, poor Will) I needed to write a bit of hurt/comfort.

Will had no idea where he was.

Sadly, it wasn't the first time he'd found himself inexplicably in a different time and place. This time the blame couldn't be placed on sleepwalking; he was dressed in the same clothing he'd worn this morning, minus his coat and beanie. The sky, though cast in a grim winter light, bespoke afternoon, no later than three.

He was lost, utterly lost in an ocean of skeletal trees and drifting snowflakes and a fog that might exist only in his mind. Nothing looked familiar. What had he been doing this morning? He clenched his hands in frustration and a memory flashed through him-- _an elderly woman's face shredding beneath his clawed hands...trembling fingers struggling against him, ripping off his beanie...thick blood spurting across the front of his coat as he yanked out vocal chords to stop the screaming--_

Gasping, he thrust his hands in front his face but they were clean, front and back. No skin, hair or blood beneath his nails. He'd been wearing gloves before. They must be with the rest of his missing clothing. Hopefully not with a body...

A bone deep shudder wracked his body and it was followed by an abrupt onset of violent shivering that made him worry for the continued wholeness of his tongue. He gritted his jaw to keep his teeth still. It didn't help. His immune system had been in a slow decline. An ominous future awaited him if he didn't get help soon.

Rubbing his arms briskly, he tried to find evidence of a foot path. All he found were his own alarmingly staggered footprints, which disappeared into brush thirty feet later. Unfamiliar with survivalist training, the best he could think to do was stand behind two trees which formed a narrow wall against the gently angled snowfall. Chin tucked to his chest, he watched his breath puff across his crossed, shivering arms. If there were animals nearby he couldn't hear their movements over the chattering of his teeth.

He kept track of time by following the progress of the cold as it crept through his extremities. He lost sensation in his toes first. The coldness crept up his feet and ankles, clenched his calves. Soon, everything beneath the waist was mostly numb; the trees kept him upright in case his knees buckled. 

_Had he killed had he killed had he killed had he killed_

He bit back a groan. His uncertainty greased this pell mell slide into insanity. Was he out here because he was running from his crime? Or was he out here to put an end to it?

Snow weighed heavily on his hair. It accumulated on the back of his bent neck where it melted against his skin and dripped, chillingly, down his spine. His eyes were heavy. He knew that at some point his body would stop shivering, the percussion of his teeth would fall silent. Then he would grow sleepy. Or else he would hallucinate, pull his clothes off, his delusions convincing him he was burning while he froze to death. Of the two fates he hoped he simply fell asleep, sparing himself the humiliation of being found buck naked and blue. But maybe dignity wasn't his due. Had he spared that woman's dignity when he killed her?

_Had he killed her?_

A heavy, bestial breath interrupted the tympanic rhythm of his teeth. Slowly, warily, Will lifted his head.

The stag was a thicket of blackness against the white frosted trees ahead. The beast watched him with preternatural stillness. It swung its head, horns beckoning. Maybe this was the hallucination phase. Any moment now Will would begin stripping and surrender himself to a glacial, permanent peace.

The prospect dropped out of his head when he blinked. The stag had disappeared. In its place stood Garrett Jacob Hobbs. The ghastly-looking man grinned at him.

_"Follow me, killer."_

The bloodied man turned and trudged deeper into the forest. 

Dazed and dumb from cold but injected with a final purpose, Will staggered after him on numb feet. The trees closed around him, leering....

~~~~~

Hell was a cobweb of ice and wood, antlers and blood. Will fell to his knees, tried to bring a foot under him...couldn't do it. Falling forward onto his hands, he allowed his gritty eyes to fall close. He was still alive, the sluggish pounding of the blood in his temples told him as much, but he was going insane. Maybe it would be better just to die.

Garrett Jacob Hobbs' shadow fell over him and Will's weakened body tried to shudder in revulsion. All it managed was a sickly twitch of rigid muscles. His elbows began to buckle. He was going to drown in the snow...

"Will."

Hobbs' grip was firm on his bicep. It pulled Will onto his knees again, though he dangled in the other man's grip, too weak to put up a fight. Where was his gun? Had he ever had it? Did he have a knife? He could do something with a knife--

A slap to his face snapped his eyes open.

"Will. Do you understand me?"

He frowned petulantly. "Y-you're n-not..."

"Will, you are very fortunate that I found you," Hannibal Lecter told him sternly. "You are in the early stages of hypothermia. I fear if I had found you a few minutes from now you would be dead."

"I am d-dead," Will whispered back, confused. "Y-you're n-not r-real. Where's--"

"I assure you I am very real."

"D-did I--" Will gulped. "D-did I k-kill her?"

A strange expression crossed Hannibal's face. "You have killed no one, Will. You are experiencing hallucinations. I need you on your feet. We must get you to someplace warm."

Hannibal was surprisingly strong for a psychiatrist. He wrestled Will to his feet even though Will did nothing to help. All he could do was sag against the older man and press his face against Hannibal's scarf. There was heat beneath it. Will closed his eyes and burrowed beneath the cashmere, searching for the source.

To his credit, Hannibal stiffened but didn't make a sound when Will's nose touched the burning skin of his throat. Did Hannibal have a fever or was his own nose really that cold? It didn't matter. All that mattered was the addicting heat pouring off the man's skin. Will shuddered as he pressed his nose and cheek against Hannibal's throat.

"S'good," he mumbled. "D-don't l-let g-go."

He half-expected Hannibal to push him away. Instead, the older man placed a hand atop Will's head. The touch lasted only a second, but Will felt it throughout his body as a benediction. 

The scarf slithered from beneath Will's jaw and disappeared. One end of it reappeared in Hannibal's hand. He wrapped it around the back of Will's neck before tucking it beneath his chin and into Hannibal's coat, binding the two men together in warmth.

"You sh-shouldn't b-be here," Will chattered as he dopily slung his arms around Hannibal's waist and clung to him. " _It's_ here. And G-Garrett J-Jacob Hobbs."

"You have been missing for hours, Will."

"N-no," he growled angrily. "N-not hours."

"You ran away from a reading of a crime scene."

Will didn't remember any of that.

"Jack sent out teams to find you and when none did, he called me and asked me to help." Hannibal kept Will tight against him and began walking. "Move your feet, Will. It's imperative that you keep the blood flowing to your extremities."

"C-cold," Will admitted. His lips were frozen and slurred his speech. "Lost m-my c-clothes."

"I have blankets in my car."

"D-don't think I'll ever b-be w-warm ag-gain."

"Nonsense. I will see to it that you are."

Hannibal's arm tightened around his shoulders, guiding Will to step over a fallen tree. Will kept his eyes closed and trusted Hannibal to keep him going as they tromped slowly through the snow. Every inhalation filled his senses with the scent of Hannibal's aftershave and skin. It was the smell of life, of reality, and Will caught himself inhaling as deeply as he could.

It felt like they walked for miles but eventually they reached Hannibal's car, parked between the trees. Hannibal helped Will to drop stiffly into the backseat.

"Why?" Will asked as he blearily eyed the empty passenger seat. 

Hannibal gave him a small smile. "You will see."

As Will watched, bemused, Hannibal slipped behind the wheel, started up the car and turned up the heat, sending warmth billowing between the front seats. Then he exited the car and retrieved something from the trunk. The backseat door opened and Hannibal slid in beside Will, his arms full of wool blankets.

"We need to warm you, but slowly, else you will experience pain," Hannibal told him as he sat sideways on the seat and draped the first blanket around Will's shoulders. Another one followed, rolling Will up like a human burrito until only his knees and head were visible. Will felt like a child, but in a good way. Memories of his mother touching his forehead to check for fever made him choke up. When Hannibal brushed Will's frozen-crisp hair aside to do the same, Will closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

Hannibal urged him to lean against his shoulder. Will didn't possess the willpower or pride to resist. The scarf was loose around Hannibal's shoulders now, granting Will free reign to tuck his face against Hannibal's throat once again. He was sure he would forever associate Hannibal's smell with peace.

"I l-like your aftershave," Will murmured. "B-better than mine."

"Yours is a Christmas gift. While it is admirable that you wear it, this holiday expect to receive a different brand."

Will snorted. Warmth was beginning to soak into his limbs, bringing pins and needles to his toes and fingers. He murmured in discomfort and was surprised when Hannibal wrapped his arms around him and slowly rubbed his arms and back. 

"It will pass," Hannibal assured him. "Pain, in this case, is a good thing. It is acknowledgement that you haven't sustained permanent nerve damage."

"It's alright that it hurts. I'm used to it." Snow melt dripped off Will's hair, one drop falling to his cheek and sliding slowly down. "I don't know how I ended up here," he whispered. 

Hannibal's stroking hands paused a moment before resuming. "I saw the crime scene. It was particularly vicious."

Memories swam up through the ice floes clogging Will's mind. "The killer has an inferiority complex," he said, his mouth twisting sourly. "He felt he had to _overcompensate_ for his perceived lack of creativity."

"His viciousness overwhelmed you," Hannibal murmured.

"His viciousness made me question humanity," Will retorted bitterly.

"These scenes are becoming too much for you, Will. I am concerned for you."

Will turned his face slightly, felt his lashes brush over the bare skin of Hannibal's throat. "I lost time. I'm...losing touch. A part of me almost wishes you hadn't found me."

The admission shamed him, but Hannibal didn't berate him for his cowardice. Hannibal cupped the back of Will's head, fingers moving gently in his hair.

"Never wish for a death so inconsequential." Hannibal's fingertips grazed the back of Will's ear, eliciting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold dissipating from his skin.

The hum of the car heater began to lull Will to sleep. "Please don't leave me," he whispered. "They come for me when I'm alone."

"The phantoms in your mind coalesce only if you give them power. You must find a way to weaken them."

"I will. Somehow. But until then...don't leave me."

Fingers carded down the back of his neck. Will was glad for the blankets imprisoning him and preventing him from doing something foolish, something which would damage his relationship with Hannibal forever.

"I need you," he dared to say.

"Then you shall have me," Hannibal's voice burred beneath his cheek. "But I feel I should warn you in the interests of full disclosure: you will find it difficult to detach yourself from me."

After the blood, the horror and the cold, it was the best thing Will could imagine happening to him.

"Promise me," he whispered as he drifted into sleep.

"I am afraid, dear Will, it is a promise I shall never break."

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my site if you want to know more about me and my writing http://www.triciaowensbooks.com


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